


Unforeseen Circumstances

by maximum_overboner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, a cameo from our favourite australian/kiwi murderboys, cute shenanigans, explicit freaky robot sex, his fine robotic posterior wins the day again, lighthearted humour and banter at points, self reflection, while genji has incredible dongcharms, zenyatta feels guilty over feeling lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximum_overboner/pseuds/maximum_overboner
Summary: With his brother dealt with and his business attended to, Genji can finally see Zenyatta again. But the last few months have been difficult, and even the most serene of men can have doubts.





	Unforeseen Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> i had such fun with the last one i decided to do a continuation! you don't have to read it, but it may help! 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10959456

Zenyatta had never been on a plane before. The experience provided new, dazzling things to admire. It felt strange of him to admire the technical complexity of an airplane, given that he himself was a man-made creature of even greater technical complexity, but he couldn’t help himself as he gazed out of the window, hand pressed to it in awe as he surveyed the vast planes of the Sahara. Endless, tumbling, shifting sands that were easy to become lost in, that stretched out and folded gently into the curve of the Earth. As antiquated as the technology was compared to the growing Vishkar Teleporter network, what it lacked in convenience it made up for in views. The man next to him tapped him on the shoulder, cracking his cogitation.  

“You a monk?”

Zenyatta looked to his robes, sash, dhoti, and meditation chimes, as well as briefly feeling the engraved pattern on his forehead.

“Yes,” he responded politely.

“Is it true that you help people? With… With their problems?”

Zenyatta put thoughts of the Sahara out of his mind and focused his attention on the man in front of him. A reddened face, dotted with spider-veins, a suit that was too tight and nails bitten down to, and beyond, the quick. The drink in his hand was small, but pungent.

“Yes.”

“Could you help me? I don’t believe in any of that spiritual new age crap, but does that--”

Zenyatta looked at him flatly for his rudeness, and took the chance to cut him off before he continued.

“What troubles you?”

“It’s my wife,” he grumbled. “She says I’m away too much for work. But I’ve worked damn hard and if we want to keep living the way we’re living then I’ll have to work even harder. I’m always the one flying around. It’s not like I don’t want to be with the kids all the time; but we can’t afford to.”

“I see,” he said calmly, respectfully motioning for a passing steward to bring him some tea, “and how did this begin...?”

 

* * *

 

 

Genji found Zenyatta at the airport with a drunk businessman poured on top of him like syrup. The man was also crying, quite loudly, wiping his eyes with his tie, then wetting them all over again with a fresh wail.

“Thank you so much,” he wept, “thank you so much--”

Zenyatta gave him firm, methodical pats on the back, as he had seen other people do when they were done with an embrace. This, if anything, made him more intent on conveying his gratitude.

“There there. There there. Your grip is very strong. Are your arms augmented?”

“Thank you so much, I-- I just-- I don’t know how to--”

“Please loosen your grip. You are breaking my spine.”

It took Zenyatta grabbing him by the neck, like a kitten, for him to let go.

“I’ll-- I’m going to call my wife and tell her I love her, thank you again--”

He then left leaving Zenyatta, an unpleasantly moist patch on his shoulder, and Genji looking on from a nearby chair, his face obscured by state of the art, military grade battle-alloys capable of feeling as skin would, while the rest of him was covered in old sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Living the high life with a paramour while I was gone? I thought I was the playboy.”

Zenyatta threw him a look. Genji chuckled and continued, unlocking his mask with a loud mechanical click and removing it.

“Not one for hugs, are you?”

“Not… Not from strangers.”

Genji stood up, unsure of their boundaries, walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Zenyatta gripped his wrist firmly and pulled him into an embrace. Nothing extravagant, they were in public and his habits ran deep, but enough to let Genji know that all was well on the romantic front. As quickly as the hug began it was over, but Genji’s hand lingered comfortably on Zenyatta’s back.   

“It is good to see you again,” Zenyatta said.

“I would also say that if I were you.”

“Can you go a single moment without showing off?”

“I had my body sculpted by the finest physician in the world! It would be a waste to be modest.”

Zenyatta noticed the unusual nature of their companionship was drawing looks from those around them. He increased the distance between them, only slightly.

“Your quest to soothe souls has been going well, I see.”

“I believe so. I am glad that man found comfort,” Zenyatta said, “as we only spoke for six minutes.”

“You have quite the knack for this.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I should become a monk.”

“You? Never.”

They walked out together, into the bustle of the city centre. The light was dazzling, refracting again and again off of the metal of the buildings, like large, illuminated obelisks in the desert, great, towering beacons. Zenyatta had to cover his eyes until his optics accounted for the new environment.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Once I am able to see I will agree with you.”

Genji nodded to the Café Aromo across the street.

“We should sit down. It will give us a chance to catch up.”

“A good idea.”

Zenyatta found a table for them as Genji ordered and began to partake in his people watching. And watch he did. What he found, however, is that instead of it being a wave of humans that would either refuse to meet his gaze or instead be far too interested, the division seemed to be fifty-fifty between omnics and humans. Friends taking their lunch breaks together, students, families, lovers. Though Vishkar had copyrighted the word ‘utopia’, they hadn’t matched the ideal. The pamphlets hadn’t been lying about Numbani, it wasn’t bluster for tourists. It was really like this.

Zenyatta was in good spirits. They rose further when Genji sat opposite and removed his hoodie, then took a sip of his drink.

“This isn’t very good tea.”

“I thought you lacked a sense of taste?”

Genji looked giddy.

“I did. I can’t go into it here, but that has been solved.”

Zenyatta made an assumption, a correct one, as to what organization could have possibly given him this. It was the same one that had manufactured his body. The most technologically advanced group in the world, who had also happened to collapse under the weight of of its own hubris in several messy, violent conflicts. Zenyatta held his tongue.

Genji looked absently to the television, pinned to the wall, still drinking his bad tea. It was set to a news channel, broadcasting live from what appeared to be a bank. One of the men on screen was built like a tank, the other like a pipe cleaner, and both had a disdain for shirts. The skinny one spoke.

“Now you will fear the might of the notorious, anonymous criminal; _Jamison--_ ”

He was smacked in the back of the head.

“-- Some guy, some other bloke with that name that isn’t me! For the safety of these hostages we demand _one million…_ Roadie, what’s the exchange rate for Australian dollary-doos again?”

His large companion whispered in his ear.

“Jesus that’s terrible! Ten! Ten million pesos if you don’t want us to go on a rampage!”

Again, his large companion dipped down. It was barely audible and Genji could only just make out what he was saying.

“We’re out of booze.”

_“Fifteen!”_

“Oh,” Genji said absently, “I thought they were dead. There were explosions in Hanamura during my stay there, I had assumed they had been caught.”

Zenyatta looked to the television also. The thin one was ranting about wealth, and the silent one was eating a small plate of… Some sort of mango dish.

“It appears they were not,” Zenyatta said. “What business do you have here? As I recall, you were in America the last time we spoke.”

“None here specifically.”

“Then why Numbani? It is out of the way for both of us.”

“I thought it would be a nice present.”

“Present?”

Genji placed a warm hand upon Zenyatta’s static, freezing palm. It took a moment to register, but they softly locked fingers.

“Yes. You would always talk about humans and omnics living together. Well…”

Genji motioned around them, sunlight beaming in through the window and the sound of traffic dulled through the walls. Markets, vehicles, and the distinctive, heavy thuds that came with omnic gaits. All coalescing into a delightful, vibrant hum.

“... Here it is. I am sorry for deceiving you. I thought you might refuse, if you thought it was a treat.”

It seemed so transparent, now. A call vaguely relating to ‘business’ requiring ‘urgent counsel’ from someone ‘experienced in urgent business… Counsel’. That couldn’t be done over the phone, of course, it required an urgent first class flight, which Zenyatta had managed to turn into an urgent economy flight because he didn’t need such gestures, the extra money could be given to those that needed it.

“It is unkind to spoil me,” he grumbled.

“Have you tried being less easy to spoil? A mattress and a room with wallpaper is the height of luxury for you. Did you not want to see this city?”

“I did,” he admitted.

“Then enjoy the fact I you can see it far sooner than you expected. It is the least I can do, given what you’ve done for me.”

“Do not fret about ‘repayment’.”

“Not ‘repayment’. A gift. For my boyfriend.”

The word caught Zenyatta off-guard, but he didn’t dispute it at all. Genji watched him grow flustered, ever so slightly, with a perverse glee. He dropped his joking demeanor, just for a moment.

“I am sorry for being so distant these past few months. Things have changed, and I wanted you to be safe. I had to keep our calls short. There are dangers involved in--”

Confirmation. Overwatch. Somehow. Zenyatta cut him off.

“I was worried that was the case.”

Out of habit, Genji bowed his head slightly.

“Please forgive me.”

“I have nothing to forgive. I’m not so petty as to assume our phone calls took precedence over your safety. I understand completely.”

“That is a relief. Things will pick up in a few days, and I will need to go again. But until then I am free. I was thinking we could go to the Heritage Museum together. Perhaps see a show or two. Have some fun.”

“I would like that very much. Is… Is this a date?”

“I thought you would have noticed by now! It is.”

“We are going to have a date.”

“If it pleases you.”

“It does.”  

Zenyatta heard laughter outside. It was peppered with high chirps and whirs, that made the inside of his head buzz.

“Now that we are here I can finally ask; did you speak with Hanzo?”

Genji nodded solemnly, glad of the chance to finally relieve himself of his burden.

“I did.”

“And?”

“I believe it went well.”

“I am to assume he attempted to shoot you?”

“Many, many times. But… What is a charge of attempted murder between brothers?”

Zenyatta looked at him flatly.

“... Two charges,” Genji corrected.

“I am glad you are safe. I…”

It was strange to have the words catch in his throat, but saying it in this context was so bafflingly new to him.

“... I have missed you.”

“And I, you. How are you finding the world, now that you’re away from the monastery?”

“It is every bit as spectacular as I had hoped. So many different people, so many outlooks. I spent some months in India, helping those that needed me. I was winding my way to Iran when I received your message.”

“Did you have something planned there?”

“No. I just wanted to see what it was like.”

He hummed in contentment.

“It is very freeing to be able to say that.”

“How did you find people to help?”

“Strangers approached me. I think it would be fair to say…”

With a hand motion the medication chimes that orbited around his neck rang out.

“... I am easy to distinguish in a crowd. But my time spent helping those that can’t help themselves involved a great deal more kicks to the face than I first anticipated.”

“You were in danger?”

Genji looked him over. He had acquired some scuffs, but he had put it down to weathering.

“No. Though those that accosted me would like to believe I was. A passing man said ‘give me all you have’, and I told him that possessions were meaningless and fleeting, and that compassion was the greatest virtue he could ever seek. He then attempted to stab me, so I took the opportunity to leave. Quite swiftly. But nothing of any real note.”

"That's good to hear."

Genji drank the last of his tea, wiped his mouth with his wrist and sighed.

“Where do you wish to go? We can explore the city, or go to the hotel room first.”

“The room. I wish for us to talk frankly.”

“A good plan.”

They made their way there, navigating their way through the bustle of the city, Genji well on his way to no longer caring about the odd looks he received from people trying to decide if he was an omnic looking human, or a particularly new omnic, and Zenyatta was now accustomed to crowds. They arrived after becoming lost for only thirty minutes.

Genji opened the door. Inside was a clean white double bed, a fan, and a small table. It was sparsely decorated, the most spartan he could find, lacking even a holovision.

The luxuries and creature comforts of an upmarket hotel would have made Zenyatta deeply uncomfortable. Genji knew him well.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Consider this an example of the legendary Shimada charm.”

“I see your trip home hasn’t tempered your ego.”

“Would you like me so much if it did, hmm?”

Genji sat himself upon the bed, arms to his sides, showing off his rippling, sculpted pectorals, glistening abs and finely chiseled features.

“What did you want to… Discuss,” he purred.

Zenyatta sat beside him, slumped forward uncharacteristically and took the question at face value.

“I’ve been dismissed from the Shambali.”

Genji promptly abandoned all hopes of sex and focused entirely on his wounded partner.

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

“Master, I’m so sorry.”

“‘Zenyatta’ will do. We’re well beyond the point of ‘master’.”

“I know. An old habit crept up on me.”

“It is fine. I knew this would happen, my expulsion, even if I couldn’t have accounted for Mondatta… Leaving us as he did.”

The air became dense, their light, jovial banter dying with it.

“When were you…”

“Two months ago. They, quite kindly, left my position up in the air as they thought I might have a change of heart. The day after Mondatta was…”

He steeled himself, but it still stung bitterly.

“... Was killed, they let me know I would never be welcome back. I have renounced my name of Tekhartha, as I should have the day I left.”

He was distant, wistful.

“I complained about our disagreements. What I would not do to hear him belittle me now. They’re furious. They see me as responsible. As do I.”

Zenyatta subtly motioned for contact, his life having left him touch starved, and Genji rose to meet it, pulling him into an embrace. Staying silent to let him speak.

“He gave us the name ‘Shambhala’ and then, when our numbers had grown, ‘Shambali’. ‘A respectful homage, but distinct in its own right’ was what he said. A sign to wary humans that we were not so different. Wise. Obstinate, but wise.”

“It is always difficult to lose someone you respect,” Genji said, knowing full well what he felt, “even if you disagreed.”

“He intended to bring me to London,” Zenyatta said, as if commenting on a nearby bird, “ as a mark of goodwill, to stand with him as he gave his speech. I fled before the chance arose.”

“That may have been a blessing in disguise,” Genji responded, rubbing his scalp in comfort. “Watching something like that happen in front of you--”

“You misunderstand me, Genji. I was but a simple monk. He is the head of the Shambali. He would have been the focus. I would have walked out, bowed, then stepped aside to let him take his place on the podium.”  

Genji thought on this, before it all clicked into place with a horrible snap.

“You,” he croaked, “could have died. Taking the bullet intended for him.”  

“‘Would’ have died,” Zenyatta responded with disturbing serenity. “There is no point denying it, I would have died in his stead. It’s not common for him to have a monk by his side during his speeches. An assassin would have seen me walk out and fired.”  

“You don’t wish you had stayed, do you? Knowing this?”

Zenyatta was solemn. It was not the careful, easy solemnity of introspection and considered thought. It was darker, dismal and sepulchral.

“That is a complex question with… A difficult answer.”

Genji felt his heart thrum mechanically in his chest, his hands shaking despite his steady breathing.

“I… I didn’t know you were so--”

“It is because I kept it from you. Please forgive me.”

“You, you of all people know how important it is to air doubts.”

“I do.”

“And yet...?”

“It was more difficult than I first anticipated. There is no easy time to bring bereavement up.”

“We spoke briefly of him on the phone, when you were in Ajmer.”

“I did not want to worry you,” he admitted.

Genji continued to soothe him, unsure of what to say. He was pulled from his ruminations with a sharp, deliberate change in subject.

“How did you come to rejoin Overwatch, Genji.”

He chuckled grimly.

“Am I that bad at keeping secrets?”

“You are.”

“Before I reached Japan I was contacted by a talking gorilla from the moon.”

Zenyatta broke their embrace to look him in the eye.

“Of course you were. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“You don’t seem shocked. There’s talk of it reforming completely.”

“Do you think it should?”

“I was wary, but now that I’m involved… I don’t think it’s a bad idea. I think you would be a good fit as well.”

Zenyatta met his touches with a long, gentle stroke up the spine. In sincere, earnest affection and naked honesty.

“I disagree.”

Genji did not expect this.

“You told me of your time in Blackwatch. I recall it had seeped and oozed into the good intentions of those involved and ended with senseless conflict. What is to stop that happening again?”

“I have faith.”

“You can have all the faith you want, but what, exactly, is to stop it happening again?”

“I am different. We are older, wiser. The world needs us. We can stop the things that happened to Mondatta from ever happening again.”

“I heard on the news that an Overwatch operative intervened. I saw the footage of my friend dying. It was broadcast to hundreds of millions. I then saw it again, and again, transfixed as the news played it on a loop like a distant, gruesome spectacle. Like a matador piercing a bull in front of a baying crowd. If Overwatch could not stop the death of a single man,” he said, “why should I believe in them?”

“Zenyatta,” Genji said plainly, “this isn’t like you.”

Zenyatta sighed, conceding.

“No... No, it isn’t. It’s been a difficult time. For everyone. I’ve grown too loose in my ways. I developed feelings for a student, I’m banished from the temple, and I’m responsible for the death of my friend.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. You can only beat yourself up to a certain point, but then you must let go. You taught me that. You help people. You wear the garb.”

“Garb is cloth. Garb is ascribed meaning by those that look upon it. I may as well be naked.”

“I would not protest if you decided to do this.”

This caught Zenyatta off-guard and he laughed, bracing his hand to his stomach. Genji looked relieved.

“Thank you for that.”

“Do not worry. I am always ready to comment on my willingness to see you naked.”

“I did not think that, of all things, would lift my mood, and yet here we are. It means a lot to me. Calling upon The Iris has become more difficult. With all that has transpired, I am not sure what I would have left without it.”

Genji gave him a firm kiss, that couldn’t be met but was enjoyed nonetheless.

“You would have me.”

Zenyatta’s tone spoke of how much he appreciated that statement, blunt though it was.

“How flippant of you,” he said warmly. “But I must ask… Do you honestly think that Overwatch is going to benefit the world, without your loyalty to them coming into it?”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll consider it. This isn’t a promise that I will join. But I will meditate on it and give you my verdict.”

“Thank you. How are you finding your first experience with pillow talk?”

“Oh, I suppose this is acceptable,” he said, enjoying the foreign feeling of intimate touch immensely. “And as bleak as my earlier talk might seem I already feel better. I would prefer to talk about this than let it fester, even if it… Is hard for me. I feel lighter. More like myself.”

“I am glad.”

“Speaking of ‘feeling’…”

He leaned forward swiftly, quashing his deeply conditioned guilt regarding lust. He gently pressed the palm of his hand to Genji’s groin and moved it, slowly, in a way that would be easy to call off should neither of them want to continue.  

“I cannot help but notice we are alone. And that you are not the only one,” he huffed, pressing the cool planes of his face to Genji’s neck, “that can make advances.”

Genji went to say something witty and striking, but found that he instead made a choking noise and some sort of strange hiccup. Zenyatta laughed into his neck, the metal vibrating gently with every consonant.

“Has your legendary Shimada charm left you? I doubt it was it even there in the first place,” he teased gently.

“Zenyatta, I-- are you sure you are ready--”

“I will not be more ready than this. I would think on this back on the monastery as I looked at you,” he murmured, “and scold myself. But now there is no monastery…”

He pressed his palm in firmly. He felt a growing lump.

“... And I think I can go without a scolding. Have you ever… Been with an omnic before? In this way.”

“I have not.”

“We have that in common, then.”

“Do not worry, Zenyatta. I will hump that bridge when I come to it.”

“I am certain that is not the turn of phrase.”

Genji lay back and presented his erect cock, smugly resting with his hands behind his head, too accustomed to people launching themselves at it during his playboy years.

Zenyatta scrutinized it as if he were looking at some sort of aggressive weasel. Cute, but worrisome.

“That is your erection,” he said.

Genji looked to it, then to him, then to it again.

“Indeed.”

They stared at each other. Zenyatta took a moment, then crawled forward to meet him on the bed. He pressed at the sinew on his thigh, rigid like cabling, and smiled at the familiarity of it. Distinctly omnic.

“We’re united in our shared natures.”

Zenyatta thought to his time at the temple fondly.

“Truly, we are brothers.”

Genji recoiled and at once Zenyatta realized his misstep.

“Out of all the things you could have said in this moment; why that?”

“I was trying to foster a sense of closeness, but I… Didn’t consider the implication of that remark. I don’t mean ‘brothers’ in the familial sense, like Hanzo--”

Oh, why did he have to bring him up _now?_  

“-- But in the sense of…”

He stopped himself. 

“I am digging my own grave, aren’t I?”

“That is an understatement. You have emerged on the other side of the planet.”

“Please try to remove the thought of familial relations from your mind as we proceed together.”

“It would help if you stopped talking about it.”

“Noted... How should we proceed?”

“Do you not know how to--?”

Zenyatta looked slightly offended.

“I understand the mechanics, Genji, I am aware of what people do with one another, but I am inexperienced. Monks are celibate. And I lack genitalia.”

Genji gripped his shaft and flopped his penis to and fro, finding this all to be quite funny.

“You _were_ celibate.”

“I can see this fact is delighting you.”

“You can start by touching it,” Genji said.

“Of course. Forgive me, this doesn’t come naturally to me... If you will pardon the pun.”

“I will do _no such thing!”_

Zenyatta wrapped his hand around it clumsily, tugging once or twice to get a feel before picking up an uneven rhythm. Even this was enough to make Genji gasp and grit his teeth.

“There we go…”

Emboldened by the praise, Zenyatta continued. It didn’t feel as he thought skin would, but then again, it wasn’t truly organic. It felt more like a toy, painfully rigid and firm to the touch and desperately, achingly warm. Foreign, and inviting.

He had been missing out, he decided. He could comfortably live without celibacy. He suppressed any latent feelings of shame, and did whatever Genji instructed him to do. He was over him, their foreheads pressed together.

“F-Faster.”

He went faster.

“Tighter.”

He complied.

“T-Too tight, too tight.”

“Apologies.”

Zenyatta looked to it, using both of his hands, nuzzling his face into Genji’s affectionately. He didn’t last long. With a choke and a rattle, he was spent, gripping Zenyatta painfully by his scalp plate and juddering his hips. There was no ejaculate, Zenyatta assumed that his cyberization had left him sterile and thus it was pointless to include. His cock was affixed to him for pleasure only, his body no longer shackled to the necessary functions that came with being human. Genji rubbed Zenyatta’s face, hand slick with coolant.

“Wonderful,” he sighed. “Will you allow me to repay the favour?”

Zenyatta tented his fingers in thought, then nodded. He calmly undressed, folded his clothes, put them aside and then opened his arms, as naked as the day he was made.

“Let us engage in intercourse.”

“Please do not say it like that.”

Zenyatta was prone on the bed, having scooped a pillow to rest underneath his chin, his arms tucked under it. When he was feeling especially exposed he could tuck his face to it, or muffle his cries should he become…

He would have flushed if he could.

Too enthused. He wasn’t actually sure what he would be like. He never indulged himself at the temple. Genji was stroking at his back.

“Though you may lack a method to stimulate me… _Conventionally,_ there are other ways. There is a complex circuit of synthetic nerves in my back. But you have the benefit of being able to manipulate them directly. But please be cautious. Being paralyzed is not in my best interests.”

At the mention, his spine slowly opened, a series of small latches popping with a whoosh of air.

Genji peered upon a series of long, taut cords, the most visible ones being blue, frayed and cut. The thicker ones sat underneath, secured in their holdings. They thrummed, like a halogen light, and he felt the odd fuzz of electricity when he braced his hand to them. He picked one and tugged on it gently, at the base of the spine. Zenyatta’s hand flopped over. Genji did it again, and the hand flopped back.

“As amused as you are,” Zenyatta said, “it would help if you found the correct wire. That is responsible for my fine motor control.”

“I could do this all day.”

“It would please me greatly if you didn’t. You are not a cat with yarn.”

Genji found the correct wire and Zenyatta’s repose crumbled violently. He gasped, his knees buckling and legs twitching as the feeling crashed through him.  

_“Gen-- G-Genji-- Genji--”_

“My my! All this talk of modesty yet you’re so loud in bed? What a secret to keep. It is always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”

He received no dry comment in response, just a long, shuddering huff of air as Zenyatta pressed his face into the pillow, hunching and arching his back as if he were being shocked.

“Have you truly _never_ done this?”

The loud, animalistic grunts he was rewarded with showed that no, he had not. Zenyatta was currently clawing his way through the pillow, his fingers making easy work of the cotton. He was babbling pleas to continue, mixed with apologies over the state he was in and the damage he was doing. Cracking his fingers and peppering his back with kisses, Genji continued, rubbing and tugging and pulling wonderfully at the cabling in his spine, setting off a myriad of receptors. Zenyatta’s voice rose, and rose, until it frayed and split into nonsense, crackling, overwhelmed nonsense as he tore at the mattress underneath him, loud enough to disturb anyone in the rooms next door. His mind was awash with synthetic dopamine and it felt like every limb was on fire. As quickly as it was pleasurable it was overwhelming as he grunted his way through climax. He didn’t feel the touch anymore, and although he knew Genji was saying something he didn’t have the sense to make it out. He concentrated.  

“-- Are you alright?”

He gave a weak, bleary OK sign, before collapsing into giddy laughter.

“I thought I had broken you for a moment.”

“You did. That was wonderful.”

They cuddled up, limbs intertwining, both of them spent.

“Years of training my composure and it’s undone with a single penis. My sangfroid does not run as deeply as I thought it did.”

“As much as I appreciate the matter-of-fact way you say things, I don’t think it lends itself well to pillow talk.”

“You’re very warm.”

“Having a nuclear reactor where your lungs should be will do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> there will come a day when i stop referencing the simpsons. that day is not today


End file.
